


we were made to thrive

by TheSushiMonster



Series: you and i [14]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 18:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10224317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: “I know you’re here. And that you’re trying to be sneaky, to leave me alone. But I know you’re here. You don’t have to hide.”Bonnie travels the world, meets many witches, and has a strong sense that he is watching over her. Post-8x16.





	

****“ _Do I have everything_?” Bonnie zips up her bag, glancing around the room.

And that feeling in chest - the one where her heart skips a beat and she thinks there’s a breeze running through the still room - hits her, gently, and she smiles slightly as her eyes fall to the nightstand. _Of course, passport_.

When she opens the drawer, Bonnie grabs her passport - and freezes. The necklace, which she has taken to keeping safely tucked away in fear of always holding onto it, stares back. She grazes over the metal - over the blood - and places it on top of her passport. Of course, she needs this too.

Her thumb hovers over the vial. Her chest constricts for the briefest of moments - another breeze, this time across her cheek, as if -

She doesn’t close her eyes, but she does smile. Looking up, she imagines where he would be. “I know you’re here,” she whispers, and maybe she misses his eye line by a bit, but she did always love his chest anyway. “And that you’re trying to be sneaky, to leave me alone. But I know you’re here.” Her grips the necklace tightly. “You don’t have to hide.”

The room remains silent.

Bonnie frowns, slightly, and heads back to her bag to finish packing.

* * *

The original plan is Africa first. But while she stands at the airport, Bonnie decides that since she’s living her life, no regrets - she’s allowed some spontaneity.

So she quickly switches her tickets and heads to back to France.

Bonnie hires a driver to take her to the spots she missed the first time - _with him_ \- because they had spent all of the their time in the city, in their hotel room, in their bed - her heart hurts less nowadays, but the warmth that spreads through her at the memories of being in his arms and kissing his skin is tinged with the black in the hole in her heart. But she’s healing, slowly, and eventually.

Maybe, Bonnie thinks, she just needs to get laid. Maybe she needs to find herself some attractive French man to rock her world for the night. Maybe that’s what she needs.

(Bonnie knows exactly what she needs, but she’s decided that she needs to let go of that, for now, to keep her promise. That doesn’t stop her from feeling his hand over hers.)

So as they drive down the French countryside, Bonnie leans her head against the window and stares out at the passing green hills and fields of lavender glittering in the sunlight.

It does not register to her until she sees the small white church sitting pristinely in the clearing to their left. “Can you pull over, please?” she asks the driver, her eyes never leaving the sight.

When she pushes open the car door, Bonnie finds her hand at her neck - she doesn’t wear the necklace everyday, just _the_ days when she wants him closer - and the ache in her chest threatens to overflow. She’s been good at keeping the grief at bay - but when the wind picks up, and the lavender stalks sway in the wind, Bonnie can only laugh.

It’s beautiful. The sunlight reflects harshly over the white walls of the church, but the flowers glide easily through her hands. Her legs barely still standing, she steps forward until she spots a small bench. It’s wooden with white legs and Bonnie imagines that he’s sitting there, waiting.

She should probably send the driver off, but she can’t look away - the bells ring twice in the time she stays there, the quiet breeze and the hot sun her only company.

Well, when she finally cries in between her laughs, Bonnie knows he’s there too. She can feel his arm around her shoulders, kissing her hair and her temple. Maybe she’d kiss his shoulder and breathe him in, that mixture of cinnamon and vanilla, before he’d let out a deep sigh and say _love, you should go._

Her heart hurts.

“Why are you still hiding?” she says. Bonnie is still psychic, still very much a witch, and _she knows_ he’s there. But the sun still beams and the wind calms slightly, and maybe Enzo kisses her forehead and wipes away her tears as he massages her shoulders - but Bonnie sees no one and hears no one, only her own heartbeats pounding loudly in her own head.

Bonnie memorizes the scene - the pebbled street and the fields and the church - and sighs, deeply, still halfway between a smile and tears. Maybe she can hear him reciting his vows, feel him holding her hands and her left ring finger and her face. Maybe she can see him in the reflections of the sunlight, beaming and crying and glowing.

Reaching down, Bonnie grabs handfuls of lavender and stuffs them into her purse.

She takes one single string and twists it around in her fingers. Biting her lip, she lets herself smile once more, between the tears.

When she returns to her car and they drive away, Bonnie can still see the flowers she left behind, sitting on the bench right beside where he’d be.

* * *

On the flight to Morocco, Bonnie sits besides a man on a business trip. He has an accent - French, not English, and maybe that’s why it’s not weird - and when they land, he invites her to his hotel room.

She accepts.

The next morning, Bonnie escapes into her own room with an empty bed. She doesn’t cry, doesn’t feel dirty or bad or anything other than sexually satisfied, but she curls up and leans her head against the backboard.

“I hope you weren’t watching. I know you can get kinky.”

He probably laughs, more of a snort, and responds with something witty - _don’t worry, you picked well. But you’re more attractive anyway_ \- before nuzzling her hair and wrapping his arms around her waist. And they’d sit there, Enzo kissing her neck - without bloodlust, for once, the veins beneath his eyes remaining perfectly hidden - his fingers dancing across her stomach.

And Bonnie sighs, leans over to her bag, and pulls out the grimoire she had tucked away in between one of her - well, his - shirts. A list of covens stare back at her.

“I want to see the sights.” Her hand travels down the paper, dust coating her finger. “But I want to meet more witches. I want to learn more about my magic. I - I can _finally_ control it.” Her voice cracks and she knows she sounds wistful - but she truly is happy. “Finally.”

His hands would be on her shoulders and he’d whisper into her ear. _I’m proud of you._ Except, he’d never say that; he would tell her he always knew she could do it, that she could do anything, that she’s strong and brilliant and -

“If I could bring you back,” she says, without looking away from the book in her lap, “would you want to?” It’s not her intention. But - she’s curious. She doubts him, because despite how well she knows him - like the lines of her palms or the creases in her heart or the light in her head - she _knows_ him. “I’m not - I’m not looking for it. I know - I know.” Bonnie closes her eyes. “If there was a way, would you want it?”

Nothing but silence answers her and when she opens her eyes, the room is still.

Bonnie sighs as she closes the grimoire and heads to the shower for a day of touring the sights.

* * *

She spends at least a month in Africa. She goes from Morocco to Ethiopia to South Africa - and it’s in Egypt when it happens.

“Why do you wear vampire blood around your neck?” The old woman does not look at her while she makes Bonnie a cup of tea. Bonnie looks around the small cabin, biting back a small smile at the familiarity of it. Potted plants surround the room, book cases filled with old and dusty pages, and Bonnie almost wishes there was a guitar instead of a piano in the corner.

Her hand wraps around the necklace. “He was my - I loved him.” The older witch, Amira, smiles sadly as she places a cup and saucer in front of Bonnie. “And I lost him.”

“So it’s a reminder,” says Amira. Her kind eyes sparkle. “Why haven’t you tried to bring him back? Others have done so in the past.”

Bonnie shifts in her seat, and maybe Enzo rolls his eyes as he massages her shoulders, standing behind her. “I’ve done it before. And it didn’t end well.” She sips her tea, the hot liquid burning but yet calming. “I - I made him a promise, though. To live my life.”

“Understandable.” Silence hovers between them as Bonnie drinks more of her tea. Guilt hits her, a little and slowly, but knowing that Enzo is likely making sarcastic jokes behind her eases it. She jumps, however, when a book flies across the room and into the other woman’s hand.

“What is that?” asks Bonnie, frowning at the unlegible cover. “A grimoire?”

Amira shakes her head, blowing dust across the room. “Yes and no.” She slowly flips pages until settling onto one halfway through the book. “My grandmother once told me a story about a spell - to link an immortal’s life to a mortal’s.”

Bonnie nods, swirling her tea. “Of course, I’ve heard of it. I’ve used it, actually,” she says, smiling slightly.

“The spell you speak of is more well-known.” Amira’s finger pauses. “This one is a rarity.”

Bonnie frowns. “How?”

“The immortal must be dead.”

Her heart must stop. Enzo’s hands must grip her shoulders so tightly as he shakes his head and whispers _no_. She must have stopped breathing, not daring to hope, because she shelved that possibility months and months ago, after breaking Kai’s spell and waking Elena. She hadn’t searched for this, hadn’t even _dreamed_ -

But there it is.

“So you’re saying,” Bonnie says slowly, voice just barely cracking, processing each syllable with a dry throat, “that there is a spell that links a dead immortal to a mortal’s life - effectively - “

“Bring the immortal back to life.” Amira grins. “The spell has never been done before, or at least, not that I am aware of - but, it requires great strength, control, and love.”

Maybe she imagines Enzo snorting behind her, but Bonnie sits straighter. “What is the catch?”

Amira shrugs. “From what I understand, besides the cost of doing the spell itself - and the necessities of blood and certain herbs - the linking can result in a psychic connection between the mortal and immortal. Nothing drastic - but just an awareness of presence, and of course, when one dies - “

“The other knows. They die too.” Bonnie does not want to consider this, does not want to hope - but she hopes anyway. With a deep breath, she imagines that Enzo is holding his own hands steady. “Tell me everything you know.”

* * *

Caroline and Elena both tell her to wait until she’s home to do it. They want to be there, just in case.

So surrounded by candles, with strains of the lavender she took from France - now slightly browned but still potent - in front of her, she lays her necklace in the bed of flowers. She’d sent all of them outside, since it needs to be just her - and wants their first moment to be private.

Maybe Enzo sits beside her, hand on her knee. Maybe he whispers encouragements as she begins the spell, feeling the fire and the earth and the air. Maybe he kisses her cheek and tries to tell her, one last time, that he appreciates her and appreciates this - but maybe it’s not the right choice.

Or, maybe, he appears, and Bonnie feels him breathing on her hair and feels the warmth of his body around hers and feels his tears falling onto her skin.

And maybe, when she opens her eyes, pulling her magic back, she can see him too.

“Enzo?”

And Enzo smiles, tears in his eyes, his hand caressing her face. “Hello, love.”

* * *

Since she only made it to Africa, they do Asia next. On the way to the Great Wall, Bonnie asks him to marry her.

“You couldn’t have waited an hour?” says Enzo, frozen and staring at her. Bonnie shakes her head, biting back the smile threatening to overtake her lips. He sighs. “Well, okay, fine. We can get married.” He reaches into his pocket and shows her the small box in his hand. “Guess I don’t need this thing anymore.”

Bonnie launches herself on him, kissing his face and his lips and Enzo laughs when he feels the box lifted from his hands. “I’m guessing you had some epic speech planned?” she says, staring at the ring.

“Something like that.”

When the finally reach the top of the Wall, Bonnie - the box still in her pocket, the ring not yet on her finger - stands frozen.

The feeling is familiar - the warmth in her chest, her stomach flipping over itself, her heart racing. It brings her back to New Year’s Eve, the first moment she _knew_ , where she realized who he _was_ \- and Bonnie starts to cry. The table is dressed in lights and the flowers on the table are lavenders.

“Enzo…” He turns to face her and Bonnie doesn’t say anything when he reaches into her pocket.

He snaps open the box, kneels down in front of her, and the ring glitters in the sunlight. “Bonnie Bennett. You brought me back to life. Every day I spend with you, dead or alive, I know that I will be the happiest I have and ever will be. I am the luckiest man alive, just because you love me. I want to marry you, give you the life that you deserve - I want to be by your side, always.”

Bonnie laughs, half-coughing, and she imagines she looks like a mess. But Enzo stares at her, like he’s never seen anything more beautiful, and as he stands back up, she melts into him.

“I want to marry you too,” she tells him in between kisses. At some point, he slips the ring onto her finger and she glides it across his cheek as he grins. “I want you by my side, always.”

Enzo kisses her, and Bonnie thinks his grip on her heart only tightens. But he’s there, kissing her and touching her, and he’s _really there_. He rests his forehead against hers.

“I love you, Bonnie Bennett.”

She smiles. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

His eyes flash, his thumb outlining her cheek. “That’s what I’ll always do.”

* * *

Elena, Caroline, and Matt fly to France for the wedding. It’s small and short and Bonnie can’t stop beaming.

True to his promise, after the ceremony, they dance - he whispers in her ear and she giggles and grips him tighter. “I love you, Enzo St. John.”

He twirls her. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he says when she returns to his arms. “I’ve never really been a St. John.”

Bonnie raises an eyebrow. “I know that’s what you think,” she says, “but - “

“Lorenzo Bennett has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Bonnie stops dancing, stepping on his toes, but doesn’t look away from him. “You’re serious.” He has not stopped smirking. “You’re _serious_.”

“Grams seemed to like the idea.”

Bonnie kisses him.

* * *

After finishing Asia and Europe (again for both of them, but this time together) and South America, they return to Mystic Falls.

Bonnie finds a gray hair while in bed one morning before her brunch with Caroline and Elena. Shocked, she plucks it out of his head, startling him awake.

“What the hell?” he turns over to face her, rubbing his head. She shows him the hair. “Is that - “

“I think - “ she doesn’t know the emotions tumbling through her but one of them may be joy, “I think you’re aging.”

Enzo stares at her, mouth wide open, and Bonnie has to laugh - for once, he’s speechless, and she kisses him. Enzo responds, hand under her shirt and dancing on the skin of her back. “We should see if I earned the other benefits of mortality…” His smirk makes her warm and she rolls her eyes before tugging his shirt off.

* * *

Bonnie never gets pregnant and they never have a kid.

However, when Enzo accidentally cuts himself while cooking and never heals, they decide to adopt.

With both of them working at the Boarding School, they get into the habit of accidentally picking up stray supernatural children that wander into the town. Bonnie tries to tell Enzo they can’t adopt _every_ orphan they run into, but he doesn’t listen.

Bonnie really doesn’t mind.

* * *

When Bonnie is in her early fifties, they go back to France. This time, when she asks Enzo to pull over at the church, she waits a minute before getting out of the car. And this time, when Enzo joins her, she does not let go of his hand as she stares at the church and the flowers and the bright sunlight.

“I can’t believe I have you in my life,” he says suddenly, and Bonnie realizes he’s staring at her. “I can’t believe I married you and that you love me as much as I love you and that I get to spend your life with you.”

Bonnie holds his face in her hands, smiling as her fingers graze over wrinkles. “I love you too.”

* * *

The day Bonnie dies, Enzo does not let go of her hand.

“You should make yourself comfortable too,” she says, hoarsely, as he tries to reach for a glass of water for her. “Sitting up hurts.”

Enzo ignores her. “Where the bloody hell is Caroline? She said she’d be here to help the kids and pack up the house and make sure - “

“Enzo.” He looks at her and Bonnie smiles, because it’s been years and he’s old and wrinkly and cranky but he’s her husband. “Lie with me.”

And as she knew he would, he sighs. He doesn’t let go of her hand as he cradles her into his chest, their hands resting in front of her chest.

He kisses her neck, where the chain of the necklace still rests, and Bonnie smiles.

“See you in a little bit,” she says. She closes her eyes.

Enzo whispers into her ear. “See you.”

* * *

Peace, Bonnie decides, is dancing with Enzo in the middle of the street, Grams and her dad laughing on the porch. Her friends driving over for sleepovers and parties, Enzo holding her and kissing her and laughing with her.

Peace is Enzo by her side. And Bonnie is damn grateful to have peace in both life and death.

**Author's Note:**

> My actual headcanon is the first half of this fic - Bonnie feeling him, exploring the world, having many lovers to keep her bed warm, and eventually passing away and reuniting with her ultimate soulmate. But this is my fic of the ending they really did deserve.


End file.
